


All The Things I'll Never Have

by NightReaderEnigma



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Brienne proposes, Brienne shares her dream of a future with Jaime, Canon - Book, Canon Compliant, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Leap Year, Love Confessions, Marriage Proposal, Mild Sexual Content, POV Brienne of Tarth, Post - A Dance With Dragons, Romance, Sharing A Tent, Snuggling at night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:48:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22954366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightReaderEnigma/pseuds/NightReaderEnigma
Summary: “Say you always thought you knew what you wanted…”  Brienne posed her inner monologue as hypotheticals.  Robbing Jaime of the option to pin her directly with the sentimental epiphany whilst making the confessions come more easily.“…That you spurned arranged marriages and a conventional role.  Not wanting to be owned or controlled and having no desire to be dominated.  Faced with such dismal options, a life by your sword would seem a promising alternative.”“It would.  Or at least to me it does.”  He nodded encouragingly, blissfully unaware of the reversal in her opinion which lay ahead.“But say things changed, say you met someone… whom you fell in love with.”  She swallowed, refusing to meet his eye.  “And then your perspective altered.  You started to think about things you had never thought about before...."()()()()()()()In their tent in the cold of the North, Brienne bravely shares with Jaime a vision of her ideal future.Which happens to include marriage to him...
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 38
Kudos: 273





	All The Things I'll Never Have

**Author's Note:**

> Hi Readers! As it is Leap Year today I couldn't resist posting a one-shot.  
> I apologise for any mistakes, it was written in a only a short space of time and hasn't gone through my usual editing procedure.  
> But this day only comes every four years - so I couldn't miss it!  
> The opportunity to have Brienne propose was just too tempting. :)

Sometimes necessity was difficult to differentiate from desire. With a maiden’s heart the lines could easily be blurred. An imagination grasping at fantasy, reading into situations the interpretations which would please her the most, make her footsteps lighter for another day. 

Just one more day.

That is how they lived now. Counting hours when time became indistinguishable. Sunshine conceding to darkness. The moon too fearful of what unfolded below to show its face. Survival the theme of mankind as the ice wind screamed and the undead butchered.

It seemed harmless. Innocuous. Telling herself tales. An innocent indulgence so she could die with a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. In a bleak world deprived of luxury how could she begrudge herself this simple boon?

Though it weighed heavily on her each time she retreated to the tent. 

When she survived another stint of fighting and reality came crashing in.

It was all too easy to surrender herself over to a new wave of delusion, continue the cycle until the day she did not return. But it was making her yearning amplify. The stark contrast between fact and fiction a bitter draught to swallow.

Brienne could not deny that she and Jaime were closer now. Their bond superseding any attachment she had held previously – to either friend, family or infatuation. 

Cersei and his children were gone. The battles over a Throne of twisted metal, far from everyone’s minds. Only the war with the White Walkers remained. The thing of sole importance. Humanity’s last stand against certain oblivion.

Allied they fought together for weeks, side by side or back to back. His cocksure smile splitting the gloom, especially when their situation appeared at its most dire. His voice rising to her over the clashing din of swords, yelling instructions or infuriating japes. Provoking her to yet another boost of adrenaline. To fight and live so she could bicker with him as they threaded their way through the lines of tents. Exhausted and frozen to the bone. 

There were more men than supplies. Refugees and warriors alike chilled and hypothermic. The blankets could not stretch far enough, nor could the shelter as the rag-tag shanty town was constantly pushed further south. 

One night as they squabbled, he followed her like a stray dog. Past the tent flap and into the dim of her small pavilion. 

“What are you doing?” She had demanded.

“I gave up my tent and bedroll.” Jaime shrugged. “I was hoping to throw myself upon the generosity of a certain swordswench.”

The shelter he had been allocated was scant to say the least. His fortune and birthright stripped away by the wrath of a Dragon Queen, his life alone spared by the intervention of his little brother. He had entered the lists as a common foot soldier, but Brienne had quickly seen the deposed Lion Lord delivered into her forces. Although she now outranked him, the Lady of Tarth had never treated him as anything less than a noble Knight whom she respected for his knowledge and years as a commander. 

“You mean for us to share?” Brienne had blinked slowly, deliberately. Sure that somehow she had misunderstood his intention. 

But Jaime was only reaffirming her suspicions, making himself at home by shrugging out of his cloak. “Mark my word, everyone will end up bunking together eventually. It is the next logical step as resources become scarce.” 

She had worked her jaw in distress, reservation already at conflict with an ache to be near him. Though propriety would be her buffer. “I did foresee it as an eventuality but I thought I would dwell with Podrick-“

“You know full well Pod is housed with the other Squires and safer there too, further away from the front line.” He pouted. “Wouldn’t you rather bed down with me than a stranger?”

That was when the trouble had started. All with a resigned nod of her head when she ran out of arguments. 

Jaime was warm. So incredibly warm. His godlike body emanating heat and softness in his nightclothes. She tried to keep her distance. To resist his gravitational pull. Maintain a respectful amount of space between their sleeping forms. 

But the tent was thin, the gales were sharp and her blankets were insufficient. Before too long he was reaching for her, fitting himself against the contours of her back, rubbing his nose through her hair playfully. “Spoon with me? It’s so fucking cold.” 

She was as tense as a board that first night. His stump circling around her stomach when she warned him to keep his hands to himself. 

“No hand.” He promised, finding the loophole in her stern command. “But must you be so rigid? It’s like hugging a column of stone. This is meant to be pleasurable you know.” 

That comment had kept her awake for half their allotted resting hours. Staring wide eyed at the rippling material of her walls as his breathing took on the rhythmic pattern of sleep. Contemplating the potential ramifications of what she was allowing. To her reputation. To her heart. The immense affect their new intimate proximity would have on her already deep feelings for him.

However, by the time she awoke her sleeping self had made the decision. The allure of Jaime too irresistibly strong. Their forms tangled in a nest of limbs, twining and holding each other close. 

And so the pattern started. A routine of snuggling in the dark. Burying faces in shoulders and necks, nuzzling into exposed flesh as they repositioned in their drowsy states. Overcoming awkwardness when his hand inadvertently brushed her breast or his waking arousal jutted into her side. 

These mortifying moments would generally have crushed her, caused her to withdraw from shame or sheer inappropriateness. But neither of those mindsets would keep her enveloped in Jaime’s arms. So instead she allowed herself to dream. That they were more than what they appeared. That their actions were completely permissible – under the title of shared love. 

_Only it isn’t._

A bulbous teardrop dripped from beneath her lashes. Sploshing onto her thigh and wetting the fabric of her breeches. Exhaustion and longing wearing her down. Making her wish for things which she had never had. Which would never be hers. 

“Hey….” 

She jumped, her knee-jerk reaction to turn towards his voice, unintentionally revealing the rivers which leaked from her eyes. Brienne dragged her hands roughly across their tracks, as if she could disguise her crying. “I thought you had an audience with Lord Tyrion?” 

“He was called into council.” Jaime’s handsome brow creased in concern as he alighted on the edge of the rickety pallet, snaking an arm boldly around her shoulders. The familiarity of their sleepy embraces empowering him to take liberties generally denied to an unespoused man and noble lady. “What’s wrong?” 

She squared her shoulders, feigning as if his arm was of little consequence. A prickly charade which would not successfully fool Jaime, for she knew they were too familiar with one another. “The world has many things to lament Ser. Reasons for melancholy as ample.”

“I agree.” Responding to her standoffishness, he withdrew his arm away, nudging her in the shoulder instead. “But that is not specific. You have known the state of the realm for a long time Brienne. It seems fruitless to waste tears over it now.”

“Perhaps it has all just gotten on top of me.”

“Or perhaps it’s not the war at all.” He tilted his head to the side. “Confide in me. Go on. What’s it going to cost you?” 

Brienne sighed. “An avalanche of japes which will never cease?” 

“Possibly.” Jaime nodded. “But it depends on the topic. And I’m rather sure you do not wish for me to needle you about bawling alone in your tent. Leaving you with only two open options. Either give me a different topic to tease about or give me a cause I cannot possibly fault.”

“You’re impossible.” His cajoling was working, although she was loath to admit it. His charismatic aura communicating directly with the murmurings in her chest. 

_It is not fair how both he and my heart rally against me._

“If I die tomorrow – will you wish you’d told me?”

She smacked him hard in the ribs. “Don’t say such things.”

“Then make it untrue. The only way you can is by divulging.” 

She flopped defeatedly backwards onto the mattress. Staring at the ropes and poles keeping her tent aloft. 

_He has a point. How will I feel if I never tell him? But I cannot come straight out and say it…._

Jaime arranged himself beside her, lying on his side, head propped up in his hand, staring at her expectantly. “Out with it Wench. It has been an age since I heard a decent tale.” 

Brienne squinted into the dim, framing her phrases with precision. Deciding how to construct her thoughts in a way which was indirect yet also could not be misconstrued. 

Finally, she inhaled deeply, the cleansing breath expelling the loitering shudders from her lungs. The sobs which only a heartbeat before had seemed her only solace, scattering back to the void of despair from whence they came. 

Jaime was lying beside her, listening to her. A captive audience of one, to hear her reflection on a short life of twenty odd namedays and the direction she ideated for the rest of her years if she survived to see the next sunrise. 

She wanted to talk, to give him this insightful glimpse. He was the only person with whom she would ever consider sharing her altered aspirations for the future. 

_Even if they are unattainable._

“Say you always thought you knew what you wanted…” Brienne posed her inner monologue as hypotheticals. Robbing Jaime of the option to pin her directly with the sentimental epiphany whilst making the confessions come more easily. “…That you spurned arranged marriages and a conventional role. Not wanting to be owned or controlled and having no desire to be dominated. Faced with such dismal options, a life by your sword would seem a promising alternative.” 

“It would. Or at least to me it does.” He nodded encouragingly, blissfully unaware of the reversal in her opinion which lay ahead.

“But say things changed, say you met someone… whom you fell in love with.” She swallowed, refusing to meet his eye. “And then your perspective altered. You started to think about things you had never thought about before.” 

The fabric above fluttered mesmerizingly in the breeze. The back and forward motion almost hypnotic to her blue gaze. Focussed upon it she could forget her insecurities. Her mind’s eye transported to the future of her dreams. An alternative existence which she saw with crystal clarity, removing her from the frozen North and the grim spectre of death. Spiriting her away to a vision of ideal happiness. 

Brienne’s speech became fluent, pouring forth in an uninterrupted stream of consciousness. Drawing him into her world, the one which lay beyond the physical boundaries of their tent. 

“Considering possibilities previously unthinkable. Like how it would feel to be a woman for your man. A wife to your husband.” Water welled in her blue oceans, lapping the edges. But it was not an unhappy salt sting, instead it was of longing. “How it would be to kiss him. To use your mouth not just for eating and speaking – but for loving. You imagine it as soft and tender, then wonder instead if it is warm and incendiary. If he could spark you to an inferno like a stone striking flint or melt you into molasses with the press of his body against yours.” 

The ghost of a smile played on her lips, this next sensation at least she knew. “Either way, you are connected more than any two people in the world, for you wake up holding each other every morning. Interwoven so closely with arms and legs you do not know where you end and he begins. But it is a happy state of co-dependence, less losing a part of yourself and more gaining a greater stronger whole. Melded together you are one, a sole entity which wild horses could not drag apart. Such a level of comfort achieved with your mate that words become unnecessary. Communication is a look, a caress. He knows you by a fleeting grin, a hitched breath, the brush of your hand. The unspoken becoming louder when you lock eyes. His gaze just simmering upon you, as though desire never had a name before that moment. To have him nudge your thighs apart and take his pleasure. Making love a natural extension of the flow of your bodies. Coupling with him not from duty, but because you desperately want to, for your cravings are equal and the movements come like breathing.” 

She could feel her face flushing as her words faltered, imagining the heat and friction, his weight covering her like a supple blanket, him filling her empty spaces. Brienne cleared her throat, trying to disguise the huskiness of her tone. “To not have to prise yourself from each other’s arms for there are no warhorns or pressing concerns. A place where you are free to just revel and be two souls in love. Hunkered down beneath the covers, until well pass noon if it pleases. Talking across pillows, laughing or swatting at each other in annoyance. Vexation turning to seduction, the process repeating itself in a blissful surrender.” 

Sighing she let the scene progress, turning to the inevitable outcome of such amorous exploits. 

“Then one day you come to him – tell him you are bearing him a child. Make him proud by giving him heirs, becoming the mother to his babes. Watching your womb grow and seeing all that love manifest in the form of a small human. The perfect combination of the two of you, united in blood for generations to come.” She sniffled once, unbidden. The emotion overwhelming, her investment in what she could see almost making it feel corporeal as she whispered. “All the things I’ll never have.” 

Trailing off, she noticed that Jaime was uncharacteristically quiet. Falling into a hushed state of silent contemplation, her peripheral vision spying the solemn set of his jaw. 

_He doesn’t know what to say to me._

_But then – what can he say?_

_At least he is taking this seriously._

Brienne was relieved. Jaime was ruminative instead of making mock. His consideration of her tale far preferable to his customary flippancy. 

_I disclosed far more than I originally intended_

“Do you avoid him?” 

His question came so suddenly it startled her into looking directly at him, a puzzling expression that she couldn’t quite read waiting for her on his handsome face. 

“Who?” 

“The man you love.” 

Brienne sighed, expelling a weighty gust from lungs of lead.  
  
_This has taken an unexpected turn. I anticipated ridicule – not for him to try and discern the identity._

Carefully plotting, she answered as truthfully as she could without naming him specifically. “It is hard to stay away from someone you love.” 

“So you keep his company?” Jaime’s voice carried an excited edge, like a smell-hound who had caught scent of a stag. “There are piteous few whom you spend time with Brienne…. and I will assuredly conclude it cannot be poor young Pod.” He sidled closer, scrutinising every twitch of her facial muscles, the cheer disappearing from his tone as he asked. “Hyle?” 

Brienne could have scoffed. “I despise Ser Hyle.”

“Good.” He seemed somehow appeased by this confirmation, showing his teeth in a pearly grin. His eyebrows playfully lifting. “Then there is me…” 

The Maid of Tarth huffed loudly. _I will not lie but nor will I inflate his ego at my expense._

“Jaime, I told you - the man does not love me back.” It hurt to admit out loud, making her want to change the topic. Forget the conversation, end his guesses. _I was foolish. Why did I start discussing this in the first place? “_ It is just stupid romantic notions.” She waved her oversized hand dismissively. “Embarrassingly girlish fancies. He doesn’t want me-“

“Don’t tell me who I do and don’t want.”

The phrase had barely escaped his lips when he kissed her. His face rushing towards hers so swiftly her mouth dropped agape in shock, providing the perfect angle for him to catch her lips with his, an open doorway to her fantasies becoming tangible. 

For several heartbeats she just lay still, stiff. Suspended in time. Absorbing every sense as Jaime’s artful kiss found traction against her untrained mouth. Her mind reeling, comparing her paltry daydreams against the exquisiteness of reality. Cataloguing and broadening her very definition of kissing – for she previously had no benchmark by which to measure. Only whimsical thoughts which she now realised fell piteously short of the wonder of Jaime in actuality. 

His kiss was the epitome of contradiction, for she had been incorrectly categorising the concept in terms of either/or….

  
Either fervent or sweet. 

Either gentle or forceful.

Either smooth or rough.

  
It was not her fault; her imagination only knew the boundaries of lines and parameters. Structured rules the foundation of every movement up until this point. Where her military mind thought in terms of practicality and strategy. 

A kiss was not that simple. It contained an ethereal element. A heavenly, out of body quality where seemingly opposing sensations coexisted in transformative splendour. Ruining her capacity to enjoy any trifling luxury she had considered exquisite before this encounter. Her blanket would never feel as cosy, a mug of warm spiced milk could not produce this same feeling of intense heat and deliciousness. The echoes of their earthly enjoyment paled and evanesced, Jaime's skilful guidance leading her down a sensory path, lit by new polarising experiences. 

  
Velvet and prickles; his lips smoother than velour. With an indescribable taste which made her both hungry and thirsty simultaneously. The thirst making her tongue water, the hunger gnawing in places lower than her belly. 

His beard abrasive but electrifying. The way a jolt frizzled across your palm when you touched plate metal after generating too much friction with your steps. 

  
His tongue both deliberate and relentless, yet also considerate and patient.  
Finding vacancies in the cavern of her mouth which had never required occupancy before this moment but would now seem lonely without his heated exploration. 

_Heat._

That temperature spread throughout her entire system. Effecting every inch of being. 

Rivalling the surface of the sun, smoking more than a branch struck by a bolt of lightning, hotter than a fire in a forge. 

That is where she was, smelting over open flame. He the smith and she the metal. 

Hard unyielding might, transitioning from dull grey to glowing orange. Malleable, reforming. Jaime’s body the mould on which she shaped herself, both arms wrapping around him, liquid limbs clinging to him as he used his talents to rework her rigidity and extract her inner softness. Tenderness smoothing her harsh edges into curves he could hold. 

_He is holding me – like a lover._

The realisation made her smile. A shy, subtle expression of the elation within, the tug of her lips prompting him to pull his mouth away and return the grin. 

“I want you.” Jaime declared without preamble. “Badly. And all those things sound beautiful – if the couple in the vision are me and you.” Glancing down sadly, he frowned. “But I am nothing now. I have nothing to offer. Not a title nor home … nor even a right hand. I could not ask for you My Lady even if I wish to – for I have no right or grounds. You stand corrected Brienne, the dreams you speak of are all the things _I’ll_ never have - the wife I would choose, the life I would lead, the woman I love - for I no longer have the rank to ask for them.” 

“Marry me.” Brienne blurted it out in an instant. A proposal of such significance yet somehow the easiest phrase she had ever uttered. No stumbling over nerves, no second guessing her words. 

The second it flew from her mouth; she knew it was right. 

“Ser Jaime will you marry me? Become Lord Tarth of Evenfall, husband to Lady Brienne the Evenstar. Live with me, love with me, sire my children?” 

Jaime chuckled – she had been waiting throughout their entire conversation for him to laugh. But this was not in jest or making fun. It was happiness. Pure, blissful, joy. An exhilaration which made his green iris’ dance, eyes crinkling at the corners. Bursting with mirth and exuberance for life. The life they would lead together. After the war. After the winter receded. After the snow melts. 

_We will survive, so we can live._

“Yes, Lady Brienne.” He nodded enthusiastically, tightening the arms which were encircled around her. “I will. I want to marry you with all my heart.” 


End file.
